


Remembering

by makroni



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, I'm Sorry, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Episode 26 of Campaign 2, i have a lot of feelings and i wanted to share them, it's like, like actually this time i swear, major spoilers of the most recent episode of critical role, really sad, so you have to suffer along with me, story diverges from episode 26, too bad they're sad and i don't know how to deal with it except this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makroni/pseuds/makroni
Summary: Mollymauk wakes up in the snow with a blanket covering his face.





	Remembering

Everything was so cold. Cold and wet. Something about this seemed familiar to him. Some sort of deja vu. Could you have deja vu for something you don’t remember?

The ground was cold underneath him. It was solid, but wet and cold. The clothes he were wearing were soaked. He was soaked to the bone and starting to shiver. No light came through the veil of his closed eyes. Everything was so cold. Everything but his breath that he felt rush back into his face the moment it escaped his throat. His throat was so sore. His limbs felt heavy. After he felt the cold and the wet and the heat of his breath, he could smell.

A metallic scent was in the air, in his breath. His breath smelt disgusting, a rotten smell like death. He tasted it quickly after. The rotten taste in his mouth and the metal that stained his tongue. What was this? He swallowed, feeling a lump escape his chest that he didn’t realize was there.

He swallowed and heard it in his ears. He heard his heartbeat pounding slowly. A methodical tune played in his head. Slowly, he heard the crackling of fire. He heard the rustle of clothing. He heard voices.

“We need to keep going. It’s only going to get colder. Harvest is over.” It was gruff, annoyed, tired.

“But what do we do about him. We can’t just… leave him there! Should we bury him or something?” High pitched, strained, concerned, sad.

“He wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want to be buried again.” Quick, feminine but lower pitched, brash, sad.

“Again?” the first asked.

“It’s… it’s not important. He said it wasn’t important,” the second replied.

“So what do we do? We just leave him here?” the third said, raising their voice as anger filled their tone.

There was something covering his face. He felt the pressure of it. It wasn’t soft, but it was moveable, malleable. A blanket. His limbs were still heavy. Slowly, he felt them warm up, start to shiver with more vigor to it. He was still cold, so cold, but he felt like he could move.

Slowly, he moved his right arm. It felt like it was on fire. It felt like it was being slashed into with every movement. It felt like he was getting stabbed by hundreds of needles. He slowly moved his arm towards his face. The blanket fell from it, the harsh cold getting even colder. He felt the dampness of the clothes on his arm weigh it down, making it harder to move. He moved his hand over his face, above the blanket, and grasped it into a fist.

His movements were jerky as he moved the cover from his face and looked into the bright sky. He felt pain in his eyes, like they were bleeding and being burned from the light coming from the pale sky. It was an expanse of pale light, so very bright. He looked to the blanket. The color of it was warm and it looked rough. The hand that was holding it was a vivid color covered in other vivid colors. Something red, was it an eye? He knew the color red. A creature with a red eye in bright colors. The sleeve of that arm was in bright colors. It was stained, though. It was stained with blood. He knew what blood was.

“Am… am I going insane?” the high pitched one asked.

“Mollymauk?” a new voice asked, warm, low, rough, sad, confused.

What was that word? It didn’t sound like a word he knew. So he ignored the comment and attempted to push himself up. He felt the burning and slashing throughout his whole body as he shoved his left arm under himself and sat up straight.

There were people in front of him. They sat around a fire so far away. Red hair. Blue robes. Green skin. Stubbled chin. They all stared at him so silently. He didn’t say a word, merely staring back with a blank expression.

Red hair got up first. He stood quickly like he had been lit on fire. His face started getting red too. His eyes looked… glassy.

“Mollymauk?” he repeated.

The same warm voice that said it before. What language was this? He didn’t respond. No words were in his mind except red. Except “mollymauk”.

“Mollymauk?” the red hair said again. Was he expecting an answer? He took a step towards him, the snow crunching under his boot. “Are you there? Mollymauk?”

The surprise on his face was changing slowly. The blue robes and the stubble stared at the vivid one. The green skin stared at red hair.

“Molly?” blue robes asked. A shorter version of the word from red hair’s mouth. Blue robes had the voice of the brash one. “Is that? Are you?”

“Mollymauk?” the red haired one asked again. He took a few more steps towards him. “Do you know that named? Mollymauk?”

He walked even closer. The vivid one just blinked quickly. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move. He only blinked silently. The breath from his throat came out cold, fogging the air in front of his face. The red haired one’s eyes started getting watery, glass falling to liquid as he continued to take labored steps.

“Do you know your name?” he asked again. He was so close now, right in front of his face. He dropped to his knees to be level with him. His pants soaked up the snow and crunched. “Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. You’re a member of the Mighty Nein. You’re a purple tiefling. You don’t… you don’t…”

The water that fell from the red haired one’s eyes fell quickly as the others rushed over as well. The one in blue robes and the one wish green skin started asking wild questions. He didn’t listen to them. He looked at each one of their faces carefully, picking information from each of them.

The blue robed one was sad and angry and concerned.

The green skinned one was sad and scared and confused.

The stubble chinned one was sad and confused and… regretful.

The red haired one was sad. He was just sad.

And the vivid one, the one that they called Mollymauk, didn’t feel anything. Nothing bubbled in his chest at their faces. Nothing clicked but he didn’t care. He was just-

“Empty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at @peacocktealeaves unless Molly is just fucking dead and I have to change my username. Also, find me crying a lot in my bathroom. I swear, I'm fine, I'm just an emotional person.
> 
> The continuation was canceled due to lack of inspiration. Apologises.
> 
> Tumblr was also changed to @lichen-greentea because Caddy is now my son.


End file.
